King-doom Come
Once upon a time, there lived a King. Now there are all sorts of Kings, aren't there? Some that inherit Kingdoms, some that get elected Leaders, some who defeat Evil Incumbents and still others who execute coups to overthrow the Sovereign. Well, this King, most of his people knew what kind he was ( and I say most because there were some neo-converts who just called him kind. Sycophancy is an art of the delusional, no doubt.) Now this King had encountered a lucky streak after a long series of average battle performances. This lucky streak had lasted 4 minor battles and his people had begun to rejoice. Even those that had been doubters had begun to allow themselves some pride at these victories.
The King began to feel complacent. He had after all, kept his word, and brought laurels to his people as he had promised. But he had an image to protect. So he put his PR machinery to work. These spin masters, they knew a thing or two about the gullible masses and the lies they buy into to survive. They quickly spread rumours about the King's spirit of sacrifice and his endless pursuit of perfection for his Army of Knights. The King then took a chill pill and packed his men off to the next battle without him. The minnows were, of course, thrilled to bits at the grand opportunity to prove themselves at war. And the masses, well the masses were dizzy with gumption. An act of such pristine nobility. A deed of pure, unadulterated sacrifice. In such dire times too. Are we even deserving of such grace?
All was well, as they say, in stories about Kings and Battles. Except the ground sort of broke open and the much-awaited battle was held in suspension. Ah well.
As for the masses, they now know more than ever what a grand man they have for King.
Not only did the King possess the qualities of bravery and sacrifice, he also had the vision to foresee the wetness of the outfields in distant lands of battle. And in his infinite wisdom had ensured that his spirit of sacrifice would outlast the moisture in the earth. And in this glorious discovery of the King's greatness, the masses now wait with bated breath for a new battle to unfold. It sure is good to be King.
Bart
The King began to feel complacent. He had after all, kept his word, and brought laurels to his people as he had promised. But he had an image to protect. So he put his PR machinery to work. These spin masters, they knew a thing or two about the gullible masses and the lies they buy into to survive. They quickly spread rumours about the King's spirit of sacrifice and his endless pursuit of perfection for his Army of Knights. The King then took a chill pill and packed his men off to the next battle without him. The minnows were, of course, thrilled to bits at the grand opportunity to prove themselves at war. And the masses, well the masses were dizzy with gumption. An act of such pristine nobility. A deed of pure, unadulterated sacrifice. In such dire times too. Are we even deserving of such grace?
All was well, as they say, in stories about Kings and Battles. Except the ground sort of broke open and the much-awaited battle was held in suspension. Ah well.
As for the masses, they now know more than ever what a grand man they have for King.
Not only did the King possess the qualities of bravery and sacrifice, he also had the vision to foresee the wetness of the outfields in distant lands of battle. And in his infinite wisdom had ensured that his spirit of sacrifice would outlast the moisture in the earth. And in this glorious discovery of the King's greatness, the masses now wait with bated breath for a new battle to unfold. It sure is good to be King.
Bart
posted by Sweta Jagirdar at 3:40 AM
5 Comments:
Wisdom as befits blood regal
Foresight of a mighty eagle
Riggah awaits the crown's fall
no cracks yet in this WALL
Attempts so far to shake'im feeble.
Shucks I mixed up the
two sides of the fence.
Damned Saturdays
*Hic*--High on aqua and cream crackers.
Apologies ye two.
A democratically picked Wall is NOT a King. Bah.
I think all this angst stems from the non-sighting of an Ex-Captain formerly known as Dada, who was called Maharaj in Behala, wot?
Maharaj .. King ....
And Doc, today is Sunday. Ease up on the cream crackers, looks like yer livin on the edge.
Now, now, Riggstah, didnt no one tell you wat? You don't criticise someone who converses in limericks. I told you you should quit hip-hop and listen to some Dylan mon.
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